“Whatever it takes.”
That’s the message German Chancellor Friedrich Merz hopes to project at next week’s NATO summit, armed with a plan to turn Europe’s economic powerhouse into a credible military force.
Billions of euros are earmarked for tanks, jets and missiles. Defence budgets are rising. On paper, Germany’s intent is clear: it wants to be taken seriously again on the global stage.
But that ambition collides with a silent crisis at home: the Bundeswehr can’t find young people willing to serve.
Germany’s military is already short 30,000 personnel. One in four new recruits quits within six months. NATO has asked Berlin to contribute seven additional brigades — a 60,000-soldier increase that Defence Minister Boris Pistorius admits is simply unrealistic under current conditions.
Yet Pistorius insists that conscription is “off the table” — not because it’s undesirable, but because it’s unworkable. “Compulsory military service would be of no use to us right now,” he recently said. “We don’t currently have the capacity, either in barracks or in training.”
Germany's generational divide
The logistical hurdles are formidable. But so, too, is the deeper, more political one: a generation that no longer sees military service as a civic duty.
A recent YouGov poll shows that 63% of Germans recent aged 18 to 29 oppose the return of mandatory service. Only 19% say they would be willing to fight if Germany were attacked. By contrast, support for conscription is highest among those over 60 — Germans whose own military eligibility has long since passed.
This generational divergence is more than just an attitudinal shift. It reflects two vastly different lived realities. Post-war Germans came of age in a Cold War world with a shared civic mission: defend democracy against Soviet expansionism. In return, the state offered stable jobs, affordable housing, and a sense of national purpose.
That social contract has eroded. Many younger Germans have watched public services crumble, as wealth has been concentrated among older generations. School infrastructure has deteriorated, rents have soared, and the brunt of the climate crisis will land squarely on their shoulders. For many, the call to serve in uniform doesn’t feel like patriotism — it feels like one more extraction by a system that hasn’t given back.
While some young Germans still choose military service — for reasons ranging from career opportunity to belief in public duty — many more view it with scepticism.
Bundeswehr credibility crisis
This disillusionment is shaping public debate. During a televised forum last year, influencer Simon David Dressler articulated a growing sentiment: “When you see how little attention is paid to young people’s concerns, and then the only message is, ‘Now you need to sacrifice yourselves for the state,’ I think that’s utterly absurd.”
The Bundeswehr’s recruitment problem is no longer just about filling ranks — it’s about trust. Years of underfunding, procurement scandals, and reports of far-right extremism within the ranks have damaged the military’s reputation. Among many young Germans, the Bundeswehr evokes suspicion, not solidarity.
That credibility gap is beginning to reshape Germany’s political landscape. In recent federal elections, young voters have increasingly turned away from establishment parties. Nearly half gravitated toward the anti-capitalist Die Linke or the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD). That’s not necessarily out of ideological alignment, but more a rejection of NATO’s agenda and scepticism toward the rearmament push.
What looks like political fragmentation among young German voters — a drift toward both the far left and far right — is often a reaction to a deeper security dilemma. After sacrificing during the COVID-19 pandemic to protect older generations, many now face new demands for unity and rearmament, with little say in the process. Their support for fringe parties reflects less ideological conviction than frustration with an establishment they see as disconnected from their experience.
For many ethnic minority Germans, the calculation is even more fraught. Despite being born and raised in Germany, many still encounter exclusion from the national narrative — treated as guests in their own country, not stewards of its future. When political leaders like Merz invoke Leitkultur — a call for a dominant German cultural identity — it can send the message that full belonging is conditional. In that context, the idea of risking one’s life for a country that doesn’t fully claim you feels not just unappealing, but unjust.
The generational reckoning is clearly articulated in the recent book Why I Would Never Fight for My Country, written by Ole Nymoen, a 27-year-old German freelance journalist.
“I’d rather live less freely than be dead," he told Tagesspiegel in March — a bleak but revealing distillation of a generation shaped more by historical guilt than national pride. Germany, unlike the US or UK, lacks a mythology of military honour. Its war memory is not of glory, but of horror.
Europe's crumbling social contract
The distrust of Germany's youth isn't isolated. Across Europe, younger generations are struggling to see themselves being able to attain the prosperity of their parents. But Germany is uniquely exposed because of its geographical position at the centre of the continent, along with its strong economic and historical responsibility to uphold Western values.
Merz may succeed in impressing NATO leaders and reassuring allies. But unless Germany can convince its youth that the Bundeswehr is not only a force for deterrence, but part of a just and forward-looking society, the strategy will struggle to gain traction.
Building a modern army requires more than missiles and modernisation plans. It requires a civic vision that young people see themselves in — and want to defend. That could mean civilian service options focused on climate or social equity. It could mean real investment in housing, transit, and education. And it must mean giving young people a greater say over the policies that affect their future — beyond policies that appeal to the bulk of pensioners that make up the ageing voting backbone of the mainstream Christian Democratic Union and Social Democratic Party.
Only when young Germans stop seeing themselves as conscripts to a crumbling order — and start seeing themselves as stewards of a fair, inclusive, and resilient republic — will the Bundeswehr and broader German society have any real hope of revival. Not just to deter threats abroad, but to hold the country together at home.
Chris Reiter and Will Wilkes are the authors of Broken Republik: The Inside Story of Germany’s Descent into Crisis. The German edition is Totally kaputt? Wie Deutschland sich selbst zerlegt.
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